martes, 4 de octubre de 2011

My fourteen year old self wants to kick me in the balls

The older I get and the earlier I have to wake up equal me going to bed earlier and wanting to sleep at 11 pm, I haven't slept at 11pm since I was 12 or 13... Seriously, getting older and working is doing serious damage to my youth.

lunes, 26 de septiembre de 2011

Pottermore: Holy Weazing Weasleys I'm a Slytherin?

Someone that knows me very well says it's right on, I didn't see it I thought I was a Ravenclaw for sure, but hey who am I to argue with the all mighty hat right? I may make another account later on to see if the result of the sorting is good. But for the mean time I'm a serpent.

Yes, I know, my thoughts are so dark and teddy bear suicide inducing that I was completely delusional to think I wasn't a Slytherin, but I still feel a bit weird. I need to carefully watch my life in retrospective now too see how this happened.

Sure, I may have the occassional murdering and self harming tsunami of thoughts, but any decent enough fiction writer has been there and done that. Trufax, if you aren't damaged you are not that good at writing it's a fact. The same for music and painting. I may be exaggerating a bit, but my favorite artists have always been the most damaged ones, Van Gogh, Munch, Nirvana, Metallica, Poe, Lovecraft. It's just what makes them great. Either way...

I am in the middle of an identity crisis right now...

domingo, 18 de septiembre de 2011

Self destructive tendencies align

So, what better way to cope with hating your current situation but having to act like everything is fine all of the time than drinking absurd amounts of alcohol, if there's a better way I have not heard about it yet. But yeah I spoke about it all last time and reading back I don't think I should expand on the already big subject. At least having money does kind of make up a bit for all the loathing.

Plus at the rate I'm acting I'm gonna need that money to pay to fix my liver, lol. Hey at least I have kept my sense of humor, and at least all this darkness is going to be useful as a reference for future chapters of my book, and I'm sure revisiting this time of my life will come in handy whenever I have to portray something similar, to be honest it's not something a lot of people can actually describe that well, so I guess in sort of a weird and ironically morbid way I can be considered lucky? The jury is still out on that one but I guess time will tell how the story goes, since there hasn't been a time machine invented yet and hence time is still strictly linear. It's a shame really.

You know, some people don't know what could possibly drive someone to actually put a shotgun to their mouths and pull the trigger, it's someone no one talks about, it's stupid. It happens, everyone has different points of view and well, to some preserving life no matter how miserable the being is isn't good. I guess you can tell in which side of the assisted suicide I'm in.

I guess that's why when in House he tells thirteen that when the time comes he'll kill her it's such a nice moment. I don't think people understand that, society in general is well known for not understanding misery. Perhaps if more of our leaders spent hardships in life they would be better rulers, I sure as hell know that you can't understand something unless you go through it.

It's actually pretty fucking stupid that people want their rulers to be someone that has never really had to deal with a personal problem. It surely is a good way to elect someone that won't know your necessities and that will most likely screw the fuck up. But humankind has never really been known for being that smart, or smart at all actually.

Life isn't fair, people are douches and happiness includes a really big and sometimes unbearable amount of suffering. So yeah, and people wonder why atheists exist, I'm agnostic though, I just think that God is a joker and not really benevolent at all, whenever anyone tells me about God's love and blah blah I just remind them of all the smitten characters in the old testament, or the unbelievably asshole-ish trials they had to endure, killing your own son? Really, God? I know he was all like, lolIwaskidding right before he actually did it, but it's still a really tasteless prank if you ask me.

So, summing it up, God's a jerk, people are stupid and naive, politicians are spoiled brats that haven't had an honest day of work in their entire lives and pain and suffering make for a good source for music, books and movies. Yep, that's my point of view as of today, and I doubt it will change anytime soon.

viernes, 16 de septiembre de 2011

Real late starter

Real Late Starter

I woke up late today
Actually I do that everyday
Got no place to be seen
I’m not part of a scene
I’m a genius loser
Keeping counsel with my own opinion
President of the state that I’m in
Should I just stay in bed?
Should I live in my head?
Oh God, so many questions to ask
Oh, you could call me lazy
I think of it as taking my time
‘Cos I don’t want to do what I don’t want to do
I’m the queen refusenik
But - oh my God – if I was somebody I’d be doing it all just fine
But I’m a real late starter
So I’m making up for lost time
Oh my God – if I was somebody you’d be kissing my arse right now
But I’m so polite – I do it all of the time
I missed my calling in life
Oh well.
Day by day I wonder
If I will be torn asunder
By these things that I know that nobody else knows
Or maybe it’s the drinking
I guess we should consult a Bible
Everybody needs a sign - or
Bless the birds and the bees
The flowers and trees
And blessed be the slacker
But - oh my God – if I was somebody I’d be doing it all just fine
But I’m a real late starter
So I’m making up for lost time
Oh my God – if I was somebody you’d be kissing my arse right now
But I’m so polite – I do this all of the time
I missed my calling in life
And you, must be having a laugh
Oh God – you’re having a laugh
No point in worrying if my day's a disaster
Inside my little head I’m happy ever after
Yes I am
Oh my God – if I was somebody I’d be doing it all just fine
But I’m a real late starter
So I’m making up for lost time
Oh my God – if I was somebody you’d be kissing my arse right now
But I’m so polite
I missed my calling in life
Oh my God – if I was somebody I’d be doing it all just fine
But I’m a real late starter
So I’m making up for lost time
Oh my God – if I was somebody you’d be kissing my arse right now
But I’m so polite – I do this all of the time
I missed my calling in life
Oooh – what of my life?
Yeah well.
By Nerina Pallot 

So, real late starter, I identify with this song today, why? Well, I think that working is selling a piece of my soul, sure I can act nice and get along with everyone else, but faking it till I make it isn't really the best option in life when you feel like everything you do is a disappointment to your true self and that you are only acting out because you need the money and because it saves you the trouble, it seems like everyone just forgets everything else when you get a job. It doesn't matter if you were suicidal last week, you have a job now, you can act happy, fuck it, as long as you can pretend that everything goes fine, we'll be happy, because what you want from life is too fucking complicated, so whatever, just be miserable under that smile because no one really gives a fuck about what you really want, all they give a fuck about is about what they think you should be doing and what you should be happy about. It's okay if the thought evokes a shotgun to your head, because you are settling for what everyone else in the world is doing, you are fucking normal.

There's no room for something that doesn't go with the norm, so what can I do? Well I drink, I mean if everyone else can just fucking look past all my insanity as long as I'm acting sane, then I can also do that right? It shouldn't be too hard, the fake sanity provides me with money I can use to keep myself pain free with the help of the magic liquid I like to call whiskey. Fuck it, it's more accepted that you are an alcoholic than if you don't conform to what society tells you, so yeah, you know what? Drink yourself senseless, that's what we like about you, you reach rock bottom, you put a smile on your face as always, you start acting and shit gets better for you. 

Because having principles and not wanting to conform to society's standards are not seen well, so yeah, just turn into a fucking slave, we'll give you money, you just buy pretty things and forget about your emotions and yourself. It is what we all do, we are so focused on shopping that what we really want gets forgotten, and many times it's not even something we can buy, it's something we have to focus on getting and that society just seems determined to stop it, and what if you have a personality that doesn't necessarily makes you confront other people? What if you just want to be happy and live your life and not care about everyone else? Well it's not allowed, then you don't get a job, you don't get money and that will sooner or later make you a faking smile zombie. 

I'm a fucking mindless zombie with a customer service smile that makes everyone think I'm the perfect specimen in the world when I'm really just too fucking weak to end it all with the pass of a fucking blade. I am pathetic, I should get myself rid of all this act so I wouldn't have to pretend again. 

What has all my fights and suffering been for? Uh? What? So that as soon as it's possible it gets forgotten because the act makes it seem like I'm cured? What the fuck is that? I'm not cured, I'm just too fucking pathetic to end it all and so I rather make everyone think it's okay to avoid trouble, and I smile and laugh and be all perfect, because I was taught to be perfect, but in reality, I'm just rotten and waiting for the darkness to take me away from here because I'm too much of nothing to do it for myself. I hate my situation, I hate it so much, I wish I was brave enough to just do it, fuck what everyone says about it, or my mom, she just doesn't want it because it's unfortunate for her, what about me? What about what I want?

I fucking hate it, I hate my situation, I hate my charade, I hate my life. I have to wake up in fucking three hours and be all smiles and charms and I just wish I was strong enough to not care about it and just end it, but I'm not, I'm weak, and I hate myself for not being able to put a stop to it. I know that I don't have what it takes to see it through, so what? A life of being miserable just to please others? No one supports it, why should I? I should end it, I hate what I have to do in order to get it, I hate myself. I hate my life, I just fucking hate life in general, and even though this sounds like the perfect good bye, it's not, because I fucking know I'm too weak to do something about it.

Cobain, he was brave, he knew what his life was turning into, something he didn't like and even though he loved people, he didn't want to really go through with it just to please them, but I can't fucking do it, I wish I could, I should just fucking get so high that I don't care what happens. or maybe start progressively so I get to a state where I simply don't care. And no one really knows about this because I say it once in all my life, and it fucking gets ignored as soon as it leaves my mouth. 

I know it's not easy, I know it's hard one everyone that I tell it too, but what the fuck? Why can't they realize that this is the hardest on me? Why is everyone so fucking selfish, they don't let me do my last resources but they don't really help me the way I need to be helped either... So what? I should just be miserable because it's easier on everyone else? Is the world really so fucked up? 

I fucking hate humanity, selfishness is their greatest asset. People are selfish by nature, they don't care about what others feel, they just care about themselves, if they cared about others they would have let me end it a long time ago, or even helped with it since I am so fucking pathetic. But no, society doesn't let you decide that even if it's what you really want, because life is the most sacred what fucking ever. They just haven't suffered enough and can't possibly comprehend what someone in another position is feeling.

Fuck, so just because I can fake a smile in front of a group of strangers I'm suddenly fucking cured? This is fucking ridiculous, where is the part where they ask me about how I feel about what I'm doing? So it doesn't matter that I feel like blowing my brains out? As long as people are fucking happy with my acting I can feel as shit as I can because no body cares. Fucking awesome.

I wish I could be like the great ones, Hemingway, Cobain, Van Gogh, those where brave men, to be able to stare at death right in the eyes and then go through with it, that's not being a coward, that's the fucking single greatest act of bravery I have ever seen. You can't possibly be alright in any condition, you know there's nothing after this, nothing after life, but nothingness beats being here feeling like the piece of human shit that you feel like, and you just fucking end everything. Not fucking caring about other people's selfishness.

If they truly cared about me, if they really thought about what I'm going through, they wouldn't ask me to act like this, like a happy person, if they loved me they would load the shotgun and help me press the trigger. That would be the real act of love, not all the things they say they do, they really just want to feel better themselves, it doesn't matter if I hate what I've become.

I hate myself, I hate that society has driven me to a point where I have to get a job and be normal because I can't go through with the alternative. Why am I so hesitant about the alternative? I don't really know, it would be some time of pain, yes but then it would be over. Is it because maybe I'm hopeful about a heaven? Even when all my logic tells me that there's no way a God exists? Because the only proof I need about the Godlessness is that I'm alive. If there was a God, I wouldn't have been born, as simple as that. So what is it about eternal darkness that has me so unsettled about dying?

It would be easier if I did believe in heaven, I would just fucking kill myself, splatter my brains all over the wall with a shotgun because I would know that there's a better place somewhere out there. But no, I don't think there's a God, which makes me just fucking afraid of what emptiness awaits my in my time of dying. Maybe the void would be nice, no feelings, no emotions, freedom.
I feel hopeless and suicidal but yet I fake a smile because people hate my thoughts, they hate the way I think, therefore they hate me, they just say they like me because they feel responsible. Responsibility has to end somewhere though. And I doubt anyone will ever read this, it's probably the darkest piece I've done, and it makes matters worse that there's a perfectly good knife in my night stand and I don't have the courage to use it. I fucking suck.

sábado, 3 de septiembre de 2011

Girl, interrupted

I know that I over react and understand things in an exaggerated way, I can't help it. The way I get mad is the worse one, I hope to find a way to get mad like regular people one day, in the mean time I'll continue to do what I do, absorb it and keep quiet. Ignore the problem, since this has been my solution to everything in my life.

Either way, she shouldn't have done that, I had spent days telling her to go with me and she didn't want to and in the end she ended up going with other people and then telling me not to get mad, it's not like I want her romantically, because I don't, but I don't have many friends anymore and I don't know. I take these things seriously, if I say I'll do something with someone I do it. It's just, I don't know, I know I am over reacting, but no one really wants to see it with me, and I just wished that shooting stars would work.

Damn Disney.

The greek gods gave me eyebags

Since I have to blame someone for the development of the eye bags that my glasses fortunately conceal, I am blaming Zeus and all his cool deity pals, why? Well because the muses have been visiting me lately from 1 am to 5 am, and it's not even one of those sexy time visits like Borat would put it, it's more of a how insane can I get my story to be visits. But whatever, it's alright.

The past two days, as I wander through day time without a single goal except to reach night time so I can write, I've wondered over my issues and surrender seems like the obvious choice, that way my eye bags won't matter, nor will it matter if I eat a white chocolate brownie covered with ice cream and caramel, but no, my mind isn't really letting me quit, despite my tendencies to run away from the world and live inside my own mind, I can't do that.

Perhaps some concealer will help whenever I get contacts, yes make up, I hate eye bags, they make you look like a zombie, and not even a good looking zombie, a malnourished zombie that hasn't eaten fresh meat in months. Yes, I don't care about what people say, I haven't for a long time.

Though to be honest, I haven't really discussed much of what I want to discuss with everyone, I don't care what they think, but I also hate confrontations and drama and it's bound to happen. So yeah, even though I have been over it with some people, I am not looking forward to the future right now. I need a job, so I can get some booze every night and sleep well, and yes I know how that sounds, when I read this in ten years I'll either be worse, or think of this as rock bottom. But fuck it.

I doubt anyone even reads this, which is my journal since I apparently can't write in physical form much, my handwriting is a bunch of hieroglyphics anyway. In other news, Chapter 9 of my novel is done, and I am happy about the way the story is shaping up. It's interesting, it ties in with things I like and I can make use of a lot of my knowledge about trivial stuff, it's kind of cool when I think about it. Can't wait for it to be finished, 50,000 words already, only 30,000 for it to be novel material and I don't think I'll have a problem with that. Plus I already have ideas for other two stories and a fun and not intrusive way to interlace them with each other and pop culture.

For whenever I read this someday, you are a pussy, your life is in the limbo, except for the book, all because you don't know how to handle it, just decide something already and go with it, either way december is going to come and it's going to be worse.

viernes, 19 de agosto de 2011

On acting and living like a rockstar

If someone truly knew me they would tell you that in few words, my greatest skill is perhaps acting, standardized tests are a gift, but acting I had to learn. It's actually not all that difficult for me to appear to be someone I'm not and get in character, the problem is that I hate pretending to be someone else.

I've never had a lot of fights in my life, though the ones I've had I have an even record, one I lost, one I won by knock out, one the kid was a wuss and orchestrated a retreat to look like a winner and got only figured out later, and the last real fight I've been in I didn't want to fight because I didn't know what the fuck was happening and I simply avoided the punches and stopped the guy from acting like a fool. So yeah, not the worse record, but that's because I've learned to act since I was a young kid, truth was that back then I didn't know what I know now. Fortunately I changed schools often and if there's one good thing about change is that it offers new starts.

So if I did something wrong in my last act, I'd clean it up for the new one and so on, it's a handy method to be honest, I think everyone does it although I think I do quite well at it, but in the end it's just a disguise to be more comfortable on a daily basis, the truth is that I've lost quite a lot of myself along the way and getting it back its not as easy as I thought.

Lately I just don't really know if the whole act is worth it, I know everyone does it and I know it would help me get a job and blah, blah, blah, but I don't know, I think that it's better to be able to look at myself in the mirror. Anyway, I'm starting to babble right now, and no one really wants that.

domingo, 24 de julio de 2011

Not as smart as I think I am

How to know if you have no standards:

1. You go to the liquor cabinet

2. You stare at this reaaaaally bad tequila bottle and say to yourself: "this tequila looks awful, I wonder just how awful it is"

3. Then you drink half the bottle while saying: "Yes, this tequila is definitely the worse tequila I've ever tasted, I wonder if it gets better as I get more drunk"

4. The answer is, no, it doesn't

viernes, 15 de julio de 2011

Instant Gratification

I think one of the wrong things with our generation is all the prizes and awards everyone hands out, I'll admit I may have been above average in some things while growing up, but getting awards only does more harm in the end. Everyone congratulates you for everything that the system awards for, which increases each year, more and more prizes, awards, titles, everyone is able to excel at something, no matter how bizarre and useless it is.

Now with Facebook, Twitter and the web, everyone expects everyone else to congratulate you on whatever thing you did online today, and everyone else does so, because they expect that in return you will congratulate them for whatever it is they will do next. I think the only thing this does is make us think we are better than we really are, and make us conformist and prideful and overall full of shit. I can honestly say that I don't really care about all the awards I've received, at the end of day they are a piece of paper and have no influence in my skills or my overall happiness.

I see however other people of my generation obsessing over getting recognized for their work, or for whatever it is they do. I don't know, I do what I do not to be recognized, just because I like to do it and I want to do it. It's personal for me, when I write, or when I draw it's for me, not to get a pat on the back and a cookie.

I think instant gratification is something that corrupts people because most people are not taught how to deal with it, they are just taught that they are better than they really are which is not good for them in the long run, it just makes it harder for everyone as they grow up to find something that makes you feel as good about yourself as you felt in your youth and leads to an increase of unhappiness, and well you know what? I think that the people that obsess over it get what they deserve at the end of the day.

lunes, 11 de julio de 2011

What crawls into bed (short story)

Can't close my eyes. If I close them I don't know what will happen, I've never believed in monsters, robots or anything coming out of the collective unconscious, I guess I'm too smart to believe in those sort of things. Being smart however sometimes doesn't leave anything good behind, it takes a lot more to make someone happy, or to bring them peace of mind.

I remember my great grandma, no one ever talked about it, but I knew, I could tell because whether I like it or not I was the same as her. There are many terms, I used to think the old woman was just crazy, she mistook people, places and was always completely extroverted in a way that made people notice her. Perhaps she was crazy, but for some reason even if I couldn't see a method to her ways, she could understand things better than most. I don't know if she was so smart that no one could understand how she seemed to know everything or if she was just delusional, but she even predicted her own death.

I do believe in death, and somehow, she was able to take a peak in the list. That has to count for something, even if I doubt she could tell I was her great grandson most of the time. She lived in her own world created from her mind, and I used to think that was her choice, she simply grew bored of reality and made her own. I'm not so sure anymore.

I can't close my eyes. I hear them crawling, everything, every muscle moving, every sound I shouldn't hear. I can see them in the dark, approaching, moving, lurking. Not only that, but I know what happens when you are not aware, when you are defenseless. When you are outside and not watching your back.

I remember walking into a cemetery to visit my grandma, I didn't even knew her, so when everyone expected me to feel sorry for her death I didn't know how to react. Hell, now years later, my grandpa's second wife died, I did know her and I still couldn't feel the same grief that everyone else seemed to ask of me. I've never been good at dealing with death, I am aware of it, I know it's after all of us, I guess I will just know when it's my time. The problem is, there are way worse things than death. So I'm at this cemetery, I can't feel grief but my childish mind is afraid of the dead. My mom, she looks at me and tells me. "Son, it's not the dead you need to be afraid of, it's the living"

I think that's the day I stopped getting scared of horror movies, I stopped having nightmares about monsters coming out for me, I saw monsters for what they were, but it also triggered something else. That constant feeling of being watched, everywhere, all the time. Your mind playing tricks, the shadows moving in the dark, the sounds of things that are not there, haunting me.

Bugs, crawling up my bed, strangers following me home. I can see them all the time, hear them, never letting go. I start to live in my imagination, because if you are the only one that can hear or see something, does that mean it doesn't exist? If something doesn't exist how can it have an effect on someone? Isn't that how monsters came to be in the first place? They say that the greatest minds are usually the most cursed ones as well. Most geniuses would be deemed insane by any psychologist.

I just know that closing my eyes means they win, they get me in my dreams, and it's way worse than anything they can do to me while awake. My consciousness protects me of the perils of my mind, what happens at night? Where no one can hear you scream. It's hell. But my eyes can't hold on for longer, and I can already feel the presences around me, they know I'm about to let go. And I do.